


At First Sight

by shinobi93



Category: 16th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF, Shakespeare RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 12:41:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinobi93/pseuds/shinobi93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whoever loved that loved not when they kept accidentally running into a certain fellow writer across London?</p>
<p>Or, Will Shakespeare wonders if there's more to infamous 'bad boy' detective novel writer Kit Marlowe than meets the eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At First Sight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abbyleaf101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbyleaf101/gifts).



> Written for the lovely Julia for her birthday, because this is perhaps one of our only ships in common, and I have a penchant for modern AUs.
> 
> Apologies for sheer ridiculousness.

London is no small city, so Will is not entirely sure how he keeps running into the guy people seem to assume is his arch-nemesis. He wants to explain that no, his life is not like that episode of the TV drama he wrote, the one where everybody wanted power and revenge and didn’t mind declaring so in long speeches and sharp one-liners. People are impressed when he says he wrote that episode. They seem less interested in the books.

Less interested, that is, unless they’re comparing him to Kit Marlowe: the man who should have a long trench coat and a notebook, scribbling out ideas for his dark detective stories whilst in the company of criminals and drunks to give him inspiration. Will has never seen him like this. When he’s seen the man, he has been variously: very drunk in a pub, waving his hands around with a glint in his eye (twice actually, the second time Will had started to think it was a conspiracy); at a book event, scarpering after the first speech; getting off the tube, grinning at his iPhone before disappearing in to the crowd; and in a clothes shop, fingers running down an incredibly patterned shirt that could perhaps politely be called ‘retro’.

All in all, Kit Marlowe does not seem romantically mysterious to Will. Loud, yes, possibly big-headed, definitely likes a drink (or five), but not the ethereal creature some have him pegged as. Will assumes they’ve only seen the shadowy photo from the back cover of the novels, read the scant information, and had their interests piqued by the conjecture. Aligned him with his heroes, tortured souls trying to make a difference, with dark secrets and desperate flaws. He has to admit, the theme there does seem to suggest something about the writer, even if you’re not supposed to do that with books. Troubled hero who’ll go any lengths to achieve what he wants or needs to? Will’s not sure. The man’s infamous, but in that way where nobody seems to know what he’s actually done.

A million stories, like the ones in Will’s head, the ones he’s trying furiously to get out. Who is Kit Marlowe? Will gets the feeling he’s going to find out.

-

The next time, Will takes more notice than before. Once again in a pub, a grimy place that’s somehow more reassuring, the two writers literally run into each other, Will turning from the bar as Kit strides into him. The first thing that strikes Will (after the obvious, the body and outstretched hand of Christopher ‘Kit’ Marlowe) is the size of the man: he’s short, shorter than Will realised, and pointy, like he’s going to elbow you. He also swears copiously, if the barrage of insults that spill from his mouth are anything to go by.

‘Sorry,’ says Will, looking down at his pint to check the damage. Only a little has splashed over the rim of the glass.

‘Will Shakespeare?’ Kit asks in response. Will knew he should’ve gone for the more elusive public persona, but no, people have seen his picture, with decent lighting and everything. He’s a new kid on the block compared to Kit, but still he’s known.

‘That’s me.’

Kit steps back and looks him up and down, clearly relishing the action. Will’s not dsure whether to be uncomfortable or not, getting so much attention from the scruffy, slightly edgy looking man.

‘I read your book,’ says Kit finally, throwing out the words casually as he turns towards the bar.

‘Which one?’

There’s a slight pause, the hint of a cough.

‘All of them,’ replies Kit, turning back round to look at Will defiantly, as if daring him to comment. Will doesn’t, because for someone with so many words, he has no clue what to say. Instead, the moment passes: Kit orders a drink, Will returns to his table and the friends he was with. Just another run in to chalk up.

Except this time, it’s different. Kit Marlowe’s read all his books. The writer of noir-esque detective fiction even the snobbiest of critics can’t deny has some brilliant turns of phrase, the guy who when asked in an interview why he writes mainstream crime novels with gay and bisexual protagonists replied ‘well, they can be fuckin’ detectives too, can’t they? Same-sex relationships don’t stop you being able to investigate shit, y’know’ (Will knows for fact that story’s true, because it was recorded, unlike most the things the guy apparently has said). It all seems too unreal to be true, to be anything other than a trite plot device used to bring together characters (and boy, does Will know about them), but it’s not, and little does Will know, it’s the next step on the road.

-

‘If it isn’t my pal Will.’

The voice comes from over Will’s shoulder, as he stands in the Tesco Metro at half eleven at night, wondering what magical combination of food and drink might get rid of this writers’ block. He jumps, jittery thanks to caffeine and annoyance, and wishes he didn’t instantly recognise who its owner is.

‘Kit,’ he says as he turns, trying to roll his eyes but probably just looking a bit weird, ‘we’ve only spoken once, not sure if we’re pals.’

As soon as the words leave his lips, he foresees how this is not going to work as an argument. It’s like everybody else views Kit Marlowe as this enigmatic force, whereas Will can almost guess things he’s going to do. Somehow, this doesn’t make him any less interesting to Will.

‘Oh, but we are,’ says Kit, placing a hand on Will’s arm, right there in the middle of the supermarket like they are close acquaintances at the least. ‘Or at least I want us to be. Wouldn’t it be fun to be friends? Writer buddies, hanging out, bitching about other writers, having a few drinks.’

Will sighs dramatically and picks up a carton of milk, holding back the thought that yes, yes it would. Apparently Kit wasn’t looking for his confirmation though, as the guy follows Will through the shop as he picks up other items he thinks he might need and eventually goes to pay.

‘Why are you even here?’ Will asks as they leave, Kit having bought nothing but still following him. Kit shrugs. Tonight the guy’s wearing a long black coat, as if to court rumours that he’s secretly some shady detective himself. Will thinks that might actually be why he is wearing it.

‘Because Tesco is a great joy to me.’ He then starts singing, skipping along the pavement as if drunk. Will shakes his head, but a few minutes later, gets a sudden ‘bye’ and Kit disappears off, fittingly cat-like.

-

A week later, after some thinking and some casual flicking through some particular detective novels, Will is ready to run into a certain author again. He does not, however, but instead works on his next book, edits a screenplay, and wonders if he should get to work on planning out a great villain. He likes writing villains. He considers writing an annoying douchebag who becomes impossible to find the second you want to find him, but instead goes online and adds fuel to the fire of a few debates about the true life of Kit Marlowe.

Eventually, he makes a few calls, invents a couple of excuses that probably wouldn’t fool many of his readers, and ends up with an address. Some place in Deptford, an area that is apparently up and coming (Will’s not so sure, not that it matters). What matters is that it’s time to speak to Kit Marlowe on his terms, rather than by chance.

-

Will knocks at the door and considers how he’d write the upcoming scene. Probably with as many complications as possible, the odd heartfelt speech, maybe some arguing. Not like how it actually goes.

Kit opens the door, hair messy and eyes surprised.

‘Will Shakes, what a surprise.’

He does not waste any time.

‘You were trying to tell me you’re interested, weren’t you?’

‘What?’ says Kit.

‘When we’ve spoken. Saying you’d read the books, saying you wanted to be friends. You’re secretly a bit of an awkward fucker, but you don’t want to admit it.’

Kit laughs, a loud, slightly high pitched sound that Will thinks he’d be happy to hear more of.

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ but he beckons Will in, and Will thinks, maybe this is how you get to know Kit Marlowe. You give a damn about the man, not the writer; you stop equating him with his characters and you notice that he uses them as a shield.

He steps inside, and completes his purposeful running into Kit Marlowe. First act’s over, but the show must go on.


End file.
